


De Profundis

by lilybeth84



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Childhood Trauma, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, I dub thee GingerBraids, Light Dom/sub, Minor Poe Dameron/Finn, Poe really should have been thrown in the brig, Rare Pairings, Rating May Change, Redemption, Romance, Shame, They do not have a cute nickname, no?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22872358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilybeth84/pseuds/lilybeth84
Summary: After surviving General Pryde's execution attempt, a disgraced Armitage Hux flees the Steadfast armed with nothing but a pair of coordinates to somewhere he does not know. After he is rescued by Kaydel Ko Connix, he struggles to find his way out of the darkness and make out something worthy from the tatters of his life.Kaydel Ko Connix, still stricken by the loss of General Organa and plagued by guilt over her failed mutiny, finds something of a kindred spirit in the lost and damaged Armitage Hux, and much to his chagrin, she can't seem to leave him alone. In what starts as mere curiosity grows into something deeper and more frightening for both of them.Together, they find that perhaps redemption is not something found at the end of the path, but the path itself.
Relationships: Kaydel Ko Connix/Armitage Hux
Comments: 41
Kudos: 41





	1. Escape

_De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine_  
_Domine, exaudi vocem meam_

Out of the depths I cry to thee, O Lord!  
Lord, hear my voice!

Psalm 130 (129) - _De Profundis_

_Escape_

He came to with a gasping breath that was followed by such immense pain, he almost passed out, wanting to welcome the darkness once again. But the sharp tang of metal filled his mouth, heavy and thick, and he couldn’t breath. He thought he was drowning until he realized it was blood. Turning his head, he spat it out, only to have it well up again. Terror-spawned adrenaline filled him and he jerked to a sitting position. The pain that flared to life within him was wicked; a scorching hot fire that burned when he breathed and in stark contrast to the freezing cold floor he sat upon.

Struggling not to breathe too deeply, he inspected the damage done to his person. His uniform was scorched where the blaster had burned through. With trembling fingers, he gingerly peeled away the ragged edges as to take in the damage. The armor he wore beneath was made of besker, so while it had mitigated the damage the blaster shot had done, it had not left him completely unharmed--that was obvious, looking at the caved in plate. From the blood he kept spitting out through chattering teeth, internal bleeding was also very likely. He needed medical attention, and fast.

Around him were sterile gurneys and tables, and the walls were filled with metal drawers. The faintest tinge of decay reached his nostrils and an agony that had nothing to with the blaster shot to his chest welled within him.

Armitage Hux was surrounded by the dead.

It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. And it hurt. Oh, it _hurt_. He felt his reality press in closer, his vision going fuzzy. He reached out and grabbed the leg of the nearest table for support and in doing so, found the strength to stay awake. Pryde had had him removed from the bridge and unceremoniously dumped onto the morgue floor. They had not even bothered to put him on a gurney. The familiarity of self-loathing overcame him, and he burned with it. 

“You are weak,” he whispered. It would be so easy to just lay down and let death take him. It wasn’t like there was anyone who would care if he were gone.

 _Millicent would_ , a voice inside his mind reminded him. 

Armitage almost laughed. His cat. His _cat_ would miss him as no person would. 

_Pathetic_ , the voice whispered; but he pushed it down to where it usually waited, deep inside his mind, and it quieted. The thought of Millicent was enough, but he would have to return for her at a later time. He was still alive and if he wanted to stay that way, he had to get off this damn ship. 

***

It took him nearly ten minutes to get himself up off the floor. His lip was bleeding from where he had bitten into it, trying not to scream.

There was no possible way for him to hide his bloody leg and tattered clothing. He could only hope that those he ran into had not yet heard of his traitorous deeds. He winced. Even now, the word traitor was not one he could easily stomach, especially when it referred to himself.

He cracked the door to find the hallway surprisingly empty. Slipping out, he moved as quickly as he could in the direction of the hanger that held the escape pods. He knew the layout of the ship extremely well, so it was not difficult to keep to the hallways he knew were not so well traveled: the sleeping quarters of the storm troopers; the slender maintenance corridors only large enough for one person to walk through; rooms where the janitorial droids were kept... and only once did he have to hide there from a group of patrolling storm troopers. The smell was appalling, and he retched. The pain was so intense he briefly blacked out. It was adrenaline and fear of death that brought him back, and he was able to reach the hanger where the _Steadfast_ kept it’s emergency escape pods.

He slipped into the hanger unnoticed and flung himself into the nearest ship. Glancing out the window as he powered on the tiny ship, he realized they were still stationed over Kijimi. When the display before him came to life, he punched in the launch code. He strapped himself in, pausing as his finger hovered over the eject button. If he were lucky, they would not notice his escape—

There was suddenly a blinding white light followed by a massive explosion as Kijimi was destroyed before him. In seconds he was hit with a blast of energy so powerful it bumped his tiny ship against the _Steadfast_.

Armitage moaned in pain as he was flung against the straps that were keeping him in his seat. Head spinning, he managed to hit the eject button. He then fumbled into his coat’s inner breast pocketfor the tiny data chip that held the coordinates he had received from his Resistance liaison; but his hands were shaking too badly. To make matters worse, the _Steadfast_ was suddenly gone, having jumped into hyperspace, which left him vulnerable to the debris around him.

Focusing, he finally grasped ahold of the tiny object and shoved it into the dashboard. The screen lit up with the coordinates; they were the only thing he had left. His vision was blurring, the pain being too much to bear. “No!” His voice was hoarse and guttural in his ears. “You must survive!”

It took the rest of his strength, both of will and of physical energy, but he pressed each number into the navigation console. The numbers swam before him, but he was nearly done. He engaged the hyperdrive and pushed it forward. As the planetary debris blurred around him, Armitage Hux lost consciousness and knew no more. His fate was no longer in his hands.


	2. Landing

" _It's not how you fall_ _that matters. It's how you land_."  
- _La Haine_ (Hate)  
  


_Landing_

  
Kaydel Ko Connix took a deep breath, letting the slightly humid night air of Ajan Kloss fill her lungs. It was a relief to be outside the stuffy base where the scents of alcohol and body odor filled the air.

Back inside, the celebrations of the fall of the First Order were still going strong; but Kaydel was in no celebratory mood. Her leg, injured in the escape from Exegol, still hurt despite the bacta patches, and she was tired; so very tired. Her bones ached and her skin hurt at the lightest touch. Every little noise made her jump when she was awake, but when she slept, she slept like the dead, unable to drag herself awake in the morning.

The sky was bright with stars as she moved out into the shadowy forest around the base. Torches had been lit and tents had grouped together in clearings. From them, she could hear laughter and the clinking of glasses. Passing by one tent, she heard sounds that made her face burn and her core throb. As she hurried away she passed another where someone was sobbing as though they had lost their heart. They likely had.

There was so much to be joyful about, but for all that was won that day, much more was lost.

Kaydel wanted to turn around and go back; she wanted to see Poe and Finn and Rose. She wanted to hug Rey and thank her for everything—

But she couldn’t.

She felt to much grief; too much guilt. 

General Organa—the woman who had mentored her, loved her, and whom she had ultimately betrayed in a moment of arrogance—was gone now—and Kaydel had not deserved the forgiveness she had given her after her failed and ill-advised mutiny. Even now she burned with shame. Her desire to prove herself had overruled the trust she had in the women she had so much looked up to, and because of it many lives had been lost, including Admiral Holdo. Poe seemed to live with this, but he was a soldier and a pilot. He had killed before. She had not.

Kaydel emerged through the trees to the edge of a great lake. It was summer and the sun hovered on the horizon, never quite setting, leaving the land in dusk. She sank into the sand, which was still warm, and her thoughts turned to the spy.

There had been no communication from them since Kijimi had been destroyed and when the _Steadfast_ had gone down, so too had her hope of them surviving.

Her spy, she called them, for she did not know if they were female, male, or non-binary. They had never given any indication, but Kaydel felt that she knew them better than anyone, though she knew hardly anything. They were intelligent, capable, brave, and angry—very angry. At what or who, Kaydel did not know, but through all the communication they had had, she had felt it simmering in the words they typed. She also knew they had a cat.

This she had discovered one day when she had received a nonsensical transmission from their encryption code. When she had responded in confusion, she had received a flustered message back saying the cat had stepped on the data pad. It had been the only personal information she had ever received from her spy, but it had helped humanize them. In a moment of weakness and severe break of protocol, she had sent them the unnamed coordinates to Ajan Kloss. It had been her last transmission, and one that had never been answered. She had never told anyone what she had done. She wasn’t even sure why she had done it—but it didn’t matter. She knew they had been aboard the _Steadfast_ and that had been destroyed.

It wasn’t until she would never meet them, she realized how much they meant to her; how eager she had been to meet them; to thank them for all they had done for the Resistance. She had wanted to meet their cat and now she never would.

Filled with a despair that clung to her stomach, her throat, and made her eyes burn with tears, she felt a sob well within her. It had only been a matter of time before the all the emotions she had been pushing down broke the surface, and here, alone on the beach, she finally allowed them to do so. But then something burst through the atmosphere, and with a gasp, tears forgotten, Kaydel jumped to her feet. She watched as the thing streaked across the sky and hit the far end of the lake, skidding along the surface like a stone until it stopped only some meters in front of her, bobbing up and down.

It was a small ship, she realized—an escape pod to be more accurate. 

Heart beating rapidly, Kaydel frantically looked around her, but there was no one. She was alone. She had been swimming here before so she knew it was not deep, but any container could submerge with water, regardless of depth, so taking a deep breath, she went into the lake.

The water was cool and shallow, and she was only hip deep when she reached the small ship. Her stomach swooped in excitement. Across the door: it was the emblem of the First Order— and the _Steadfast_.

Hope surged within her. If a _Steadfast_ escape pod had found its way here, it might mean her coordinates had been used. She knew she should probably feel afraid, but she wasn't. She had no idea who was in here, but she had to _know_. When no one emerged from the pod, she sloshed forward and pulled cautiously on the handle. With a hiss, the air pressure released and the door swung upwards, revealing it's pilot. Yelping, she staggered backwards, the lake water surging around her.

There, with hair the same color as the setting sun, was General Armitage Hux—the Destroyer of Worlds and one of the most hated men in the galaxy.

And though it was extraordinary to believe, he was quite possibly her spy.  
  
  


Composing herself, she quickly looked him over, searching for a blaster or a different sort of weapon on his person. After finding none, she turned to him. There was dried blood on the corner of his mouth and his uniform jacket and undershirt had been torn open, revealing a dented plate of armor. Also his thigh had a bloody bandage wrapped around it. Kaydel reached out and pressed her fingers against the side of his throat. It took a moment to find his pulse, but there it was—faint and fluttering. His skin was hot to the touch. He let out a whimper and she froze, but he made no further sounds and did not move. There was only the sound of the waves lapping at the shore.

Without a moment more of hesitation, she climbed up onto the unstable ship and unstrapped him from his seat.

It took a long time to get him out and she slipped a few times, submerging herself under water, but eventually she had him floating on his back. When she reached shore, she pulled him out, grunting against his weight. He was surprisingly large. She had always thought of General Hux as a physically weak man, the way Poe and Finn and other’s talked about him, but he was not. And his gaberwool clothing was now completely soaked, adding weight she did not need if she was going to carry him back to base. She stripped him of his jacket, but left his trousers on.

It had been a very long time since Kaydel had done a rescue carry; not since training, actually, but it came back, and she found herself going through the movements easily until she went to lift him. His chest came into contact with her shoulder and he let out a moan. Startled, Kaydel almost dropped him, but he soon grew quiet again. She lifted him as gently as she could, grunting at his weight, and began to slowly walk back towards base, ignoring the burning pain in her own leg and the way her lungs ached. No one seemed to notice her, nor the man she carried. They were all too consumed by their own lives.

She was not more than a few meters from the entrance to the med bay when Finn suddenly burst out of the base, followed by Poe and Rose. They had the disheveled look of people who had been partying hard. Poe saw her first. 

“Kaydel, where the hell have you—oof!"

Finn had pushed by him, looking aghast, his eyes flitting back and forth from her to the man she was carrying. "Kay, do you know who that is?” His voice was higher pitched than usual.

“Yes, of course I do,” Kaydel panted. “But he’s injured, and I—I think he might be the spy.“

“Alright, stop staring and help her get him into med bay,” Rose interrupted, pushing forward.

“Rose, that’s—“

“I know who it is!” Rose snapped. “Just—help her! She’s still injured!”

Finn and Poe hurried forward and Rose muttered under her breath, “What were you thinking, carrying him like that, Kay, gods…you should have gotten help!”

"It might have taken too long," Kaydel grunted as Hux was lifted from her shoulders. Standing straight, she stretched her neck and noticed the sideways glances Poe and Finn were giving each other. “What?” She asked, following them as they carried him inside and down the hallway. “What is it?”

But before they had time to answer, the metal doors into the medical ward slid open and they were met with a harried looking doctor who took one glance at General Hux and wasted no time telling them what to do.

“Put him down over here.” He led them to a bed on which Finn and Poe dumped Hux rather mercilessly, his head flopping to the side. Frowning at them, Kaydel reached out to correct it when she was pushed out of the way by the doctor. Poe steadied her and glared at the doctor's back, but he was already checking Hux's pulse. “What happened to him?” He opened his eyes and shone a light into them. When no one answered, he snapped, "Why is no one talking? He's barely responsive. It is possible he will die if—”

“I don’t think anyone cares,” Finn muttered. But when the doctor whirled around and glared at him, he protested angrily, cheeks flushing: “He’s a First Order general! Let him die!”

The doctor—a Doctor Neve, according to his badge—also turned red. “We save lives, no matter who they are, _General_.“

“He has a wound on his thigh from a close range blaster shot,” Poe answered suddenly. “I don’t know what else.”

“How do you know that?” Rose asked Poe curiously, and Poe grimaced.

“Finn did it…before we escaped the _Steadfast_.

“What?” Kaydel and Rose asked together, stunned. Finn was glaring at Poe. “You didn’t have to tell her—“

“He’s your spy,” Poe admitted to Kaydel, ignoring Finn. “He told us before letting us go—told Finn to shoot him to make it look like he didn’t have a choice.”

Rose suddenly gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. Kaydel followed her line of sight to General Hux and felt sick when she saw what made her react so.

While they had been talking, Dr. Neve had opened his shirt and removed the armor. Across his pale chest was a massive hematoma that had spread much like the web of a spider. It was ugly and looked extremely painful.

Finn winced. “Obviously they didn’t believe him.”

Dr. Neve snapped his fingers and an orderly was at his side in an instant. “He has internal bleeding,” he said brusquely. “He needs a bacta tank and possibly surgery, though, I’m sorry to say, it might already be too late.”

“No!” The word burst from Kaydel before she knew what she was saying. “You have to save him! You have to!”

The doctor turned to her and frowned, his bushy eyebrows drawing together as his blue eyes scanned her face. The others stared at her as well, and she flushed in embarrassment.

“Please,” she whispered. “He’s mine—my responsibility.”

“Alright,” Dr. Neve said, looking back down at his patient. “I’ll save him. Now get out.”

Medical staff flurried around him and more ushered them out, the metal doors swishing shut behind them.

Kaydel stared at the closed doors, her blurry reflection an accurate representation of how she felt. She could feel her friends eyes on her back and she shifted uncomfortably.

“Kay,” Rose finally said, her tone kind and quiet. “How did he get here?”

Kaydel didn't look at her. “I was at the lake, and his escape pod landed in the water,” she responded vaguely. 

“”No,” Rose pressed. “I mean how did he know to come to Ajan Kloss?”

Kaydel’s mouth was dry; she licked her lips but it didn't make a difference. “I gave him the coordinates,” she whispered. 

She heard a deep breath being drawn in, but the silence was more telling than anything else.

“I knew it was dangerous, I knew—I just—“

"I can't believe you did that." Poe sounded stunned.

“Do you know what he told us?” Finn’s voice was harsh. “Me and Poe? He said he didn’t care about the resistance, he only wanted to see Kylo Ren fail.”

Kaydel winced, but she also felt a flare of indignation. 

“Finn—“ came Rose’s warning.

“No! She should know!”

“Now is not the time!”

“Why not?”

“You guys—“ Poe interjected.

“What?” They both glared at him

But Kaydel had had enough. She whirled around, causing Finn to leap back and bump into Poe, who gently placed his hands on Finn's shoulders, steadying him. 

“Does that matter?” She was shouting, something she didn’t normally do, and she could see the shock on her friend’s faces. “He still helped us. He almost died and—and he still might. But he’s here. He came here even though he knew how we would react. How _you_ would react. ”

“Kay—“ Rose started but Kaydel cut her off.

“Yes, I gave him the coordinates. He was _my_ spy. I was responsible for him. General Organa was gone, and you were all off doing whatever you do, and I had to make the decision on my own, so I did what I thought was right.” She took a deep breath, but the tears she had pushed down to focus on rescuing General Hux threatened to come bursting out in a flood. “If something happens, it’s my fault. I will take full responsibility. But for now, just—kriffing— _leave it!_ ”

With that she spun on her toe and ran off down the hall towards the door.

“Kaydel—“ Poe’s voice echoed after her.

“She said leave it,” Rose snapped at them.

Neither Finn or Poe looked happy about it, but they did as they were told, watching as she fled out into the night, the door slamming shut behind her. 


	3. A Man Drifted Over the Line

The night was cool as Kaydel limped outside, gritting her teeth against the sharp pain that shot through her thigh. She had overexerted herself and she knew she would pay for it the following day, so no matter how much she wanted to, running was out of the question. Even if she could, it wouldn't do any good, because guilt and anger were not something she could outrun. They were inside her, simmering like a kettle left over the fire, the whistle screaming in her ears. She would bear it as she always did. 

As an officer, she had a room inside the base, but it was summer, and she didn't sleep inside when she didn't have to. She missed the openness of her home world, the plains and large expanse of night sky. She missed the warmth of sitting round a fire with her family, the scent of her mother's yeasty bread baking, and the press of her sister snuggled close under the woven shawl their grandmother had made so many years ago. The nights on Ajan Kloss were warm, so when the rhythmic pulse of homesickness overtook her, she slept outside, not in a tent, but in the arms of an ancient giant.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in her leg, she made her ascent into the looping branches of the sharply scented tree. The soft red bark dug into the sensitive skin under her nails, but she didn't care, relishing in the self-inflicted pain. She was perhaps ten meters off the ground—just high enough that no one could see her— when she came to the nook where she had made her summer home. For her floor, she had tied down plastoid paneling left over from the construction of the base, and on top of this a sleeping roll large enough for one, maybe two (not that she brought anyone here to share it with) and a thick blanket for the chill at dawn. Not even bothering to remove her boots, she lay down and curled up into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest. 

There under the tree’s whispering boughs, she finally let her tears fall. She cried for those that were gone: General Organa and Admiral Hodo, whom she wished were still there to advise her and tell her what to do when it was so hard; she cried for Rey who had come back from Exegol a different and much sadder woman, and she cried for the man she had put so much faith and hope into, only to find him to be the worst possible person to have any hope in. There was a small part of her that wanted him to die, to leave and take the burden of disappointment in who he was off her already fragile shoulders, but mostly she wanted him to survive. She wanted to know who he was; this man who could so easily order the destruction of so many worlds, and who owned a cat.

She cried until there were no more tears and then she fell into an exhausted and fitful sleep, where she dreamed of broken flowers and of the fiery sunset over the plains of Dulathia. 

When she woke the sun was already high in the sky. Her eyes were swollen with salt and her nose, stuffy. She felt as though she'd been knocked about, for everything ached. Her injured leg was stiff, which made her climb down agonizing and slow. As she limped her way back through the camp, she saw very few people. She was glad because she had no desire to see anyone she knew, least of all Poe and Finn. She wasn't ready to face either of them. 

After washing her face and re-pinning her mussed braids, she grabbed a ration bar from the mostly empty canteen and made her way to med bay. She planned to use the excuse to have her leg looked at (which, with the way it was feeling, wasn't too much of a lie) so she could ask how General Hux had faired through the night.   
  
It turned out he had survived. 

After receiving a lecture about overexertion, she was led to the bacta tank where General Hux was recuperating. Suspended in the healing liquid, he was naked except for a pair of white belted underwear and a breathing mask. His hair, bright against the pale blue liquid, floated around his head like a halo of fire; his skin took on a sickly glow. The injury to his chest looked much better, and though the bruising was still significant, it didn't have the dark and deadly look it had the night before. She moved in for a closer look and a voice spoke behind her:

“He suffered a massive internal injury, but he'll live, Lieutenant, Connix, thanks to you." 

She looked over her shoulder to find Dr. Neve staring, not at her, but at the man in the bacta tank.

“The armor he wore prevented his immediate death, but if you hadn’t brought him in when you did, he wouldn’t have survived.”

Kaydel blushed. “I only happened to be there when his pod landed.”

Dr. Neve shrugged with disinterest at her modesty. “Still. You saved his life.” Only then did he meet her eyes. “He’ll be out of the bacta tank by evening, if you want to come back then.”

“Oh, no—“ Kaydel tried to protest, but Dr. Neve just shrugged again.

“Suit yourself.” He walked away from her without another word.

Kaydel watched him go, then turned back to the bacta tank and studied it’s occupant.

The General was slender, but not skinny; his gently defined muscles reminded her more of those that came from the fighting arts then from heavy weight lifting. His cheekbones were sharply defined and his forehead soft and unlined. He looked so peaceful and not at all like the raging psychopath he was known to be; though of course, even serial murderers had to sleep.

Kaydel reached up and placed her palm against the glass where his hand floated gently in front of her. They had removed his gloves. Even though the warped glass, she could see how much larger than hers they were, and it made her wonder how Poe could ever have thought of him as small. Leaning forward to get a closer look, she was suddenly shocked to realized that his eyes were open—and he was staring right at her. With a strangled scream, she leapt back, a tearing pain shooting through her leg.

He wasn’t actually awake, the medic who came to treat and scold her explained, it was a normal response. He was reacting to stimuli.

"He's just healing,“ she said with a scowl as she stitched the torn skin on Kaydel's leg. "Something you should be doing." She slapped on another bacta patch, causing Kaydel to wince. "Now rest, you silly child." She pointed to a bed and snapped her fingers. "Since you can't be trusted to do it on your own."

Kaydel opened her mouth to protest she wasn't a child, but she grudgingly admitted that the woman, who was at least twenty years older than her, was right—she needed to rest. So she did what she was told. She was given a saline drip for dehydration and seconds after her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.

When she woke, the drip had been removed and the lights had been dimmed. The room was empty save her and the bed next to her, which contained the sleeping form of General Hux. 

He was now dressed in clean white pants and worn-looking long sleeve shirt. His still-damp hair lay across his forehead in long dark red tendrils, making him look much younger than when he had it slicked back like in the holovids of him screaming at his troops. Though he was asleep his forehead wrinkled and his nose twitched. He seemed to find the hair on his brow uncomfortable, so Kaydel reached out and brushed it away. His skin was warm under her fingertips and his hair was soft—so very soft. His eyelashes were long, but pale, like her own, and his skin was fair with a smattering of freckles across his cheeks.

He probably did not see the sun planet-side very often; this she knew, because having fair skin herself, if she spent too much time outside she would burn and then freckle. It was annoying, especially when her friends easily darkened or turned golden in the sun when they went swimming or spent time outside. Finn's skin took on a lovely glow, while she slapped on gel from the aloe plant to calm redness and hoped her skin wouldn't peel.

 _We have something in common,_ y _ou and I_ , she thought absently. She let her eyes drop to his hands, which she could now see properly. Hesitantly, she gently picked up the hand closest to her, cradling it between her own. Lightly, she traced the light dusting of freckles across the skin there; the wrinkles in his bony knuckles; and the round curves of his trimmed nails. His palms were soft, but backs showed signs of abuse, with pale scars on his fingers. She supposed they could have been from anything, but she knew they were not made from a cat scratch or the mere slip of a blade for they were jagged and all the same length. Something tightened in her chest and she realized what it was with a certain amount of surprise; it was pity.

She sat and quietly stroked his damaged hand. 

Armitage was dreaming. He knew this because he was being touched by a soft and gentle hand, and that never happened except in his dreams. He was used to the harsh physical punishments from his father, the mental anguish he received from Snoke, and the careless way Kylo Ren would throw him against walls whenever he said something that made the man angry. People didn't touch him to be kind.

The dreams always started the same: a woman who he assumed to be his mother, would caress his forehead and rub his back, and sing to him wordless lullabies he never could quite remember when he woke. He never saw her face and she never spoke to him, but words were never needed when there was such love and kindness there. He usually woke with tears in his eyes and a feeling of profound loss. But there was something new about this dream. Her face, usually a blurry outline of a woman, came a bit more into focus, and she was caressing the back of his hand. His dream-self blinked at her blue eyes and golden hair. 

“Armitage, my love,” she murmured softly, still stroking his hand. “It’s time to wake up now.”

"No!" he tried to say, but nothing emerged because it was only a dream. "No, I don't want to leave you!"

"Yes, darling. Wakeup. It's time."

His eyes opened as the last tendrils of the dream faded away into the part of his mind that was inaccessible when he was conscious. He blinked and frowned. There was a woman sitting next to him, his hand in hers. He blinked again, but she did not disappear. She had not even noticed he was conscious. In fact—yes—she was asleep. Her chin was nodding against her chest and her eyes were closed. 

How odd. 

He did not wake her, but looked around, taking in what he knew to be true: he was in a hospital bed in a sterile room; his chest hurt, but he did not feel like he was in death's waiting room; he was alive. He must have made it to wherever the coordinates meant to take him, because no First Order General would have allowed him, the traitor that he was, to live. That meant he was in rebel territory. He looked back at the sleeping woman and considered her:

She was wearing a rumpled tan colored homespun blouse with a dark yellow quilted vest over the top emblazoned with the insignia of the Rebel Alliance. An officer, perhaps? Her belt and trousers were brown, as were her boots.

 _Brown._ He sneered. Why were they always wearing _brown_? How would anyone take them seriously, these people who who did not understand how important what they wore was? He turned his attention to her face. Her hair was in some braid wound around the crown of her head, a touch of femininity or practicality, or perhaps both. There were purple smudges below her eyes and her skin was sallow. She had been ill recently. Or perhaps she was just exhausted. _She certainly must be to be sleeping next to one of the most hated men in the galaxy,_ he thought bitterly.

He looked down at where his hand lay between hers and winced. He didn't like it when people touched his hands; it was why he wore gloves. Still, she was not gripping it, but had cupped it between her palms, as though it were something precious. Then her fingers moved, squeezing slightly, so her fingertips were more firmly pressed against his skin. He swallowed and some unrecognizable feeling shot through him; something sweet, yet bitter, and filled him with a longing so profound he suddenly couldn't stand it. Without considering the consequences, he jerked his hand away. 

She woke then, her head jerking back, hair coming undone from her braids. He cursed himself internally. As fear tore through him, he acted on instinct: he shot up and grabbed her by the throat and pulled her down to the bed before she could do anything but gurgle.

Pain shot through his chest, but he ignored it, instead trying to focus on struggling woman below him. Her hands scrabbled at his arms, but he had her firmly in his grip. Another pain shot through him, this time stronger and more jagged, and his grasp weakened. Suddenly he was the one on his back with his arms pressed over his head and her knees pushing painfully into his thighs.

“General Hux,” she gasped out, her voice low and gravelly. “Stop struggling."

He barely heard her, his memories of raw fear over taking his ability to think.

"Please listen, you aren't in any danger! I'm not going to hurt you."

“I don’t believe you!” he croaked. “They always hurt me.”

She frowned in confusion.“I don’t know who you’re talking about, but I’m not them.” 

His mind felt muddy, and he wasn't sure what he was even talking about. Why was it so hard to think?

“You’ve already spent an entire day in a bacta tank, but if you don’t stop struggling, you’ll re-injure yourself and have to go back in.”

He forced himself to look at her; her features were fuzzy and shadowed, back lit by the overhead lights. 

"Do you understand?" she asked, her fingers tightening on his his wrists, fingers digging into his palms.

He tried, but relaxing was difficult as it went against everything he had trained himself to do when pinned beneath another person. She wasn't going to let him go until she had deemed him not a threat, so he had to try. 

"Do you understand?" she repeated. 

“Yes." His voice was hoarse with disuse and he could taste the iron tang of blood in his mouth.

Then she shifted and the light brightened her face. She was no longer in shadow and he was left gazing into a pair of soft brown eyes that reminded him of the Arkanisian deer in summer. It was a startling discovery for he hadn’t thought of Arkanis in years. And then there was her scent: musky, with something almost pine-like, but sweeter...familiar.

As he let his muscles loosen, his mind quieted and his breathing became less erratic. The pain in his chest subsided.

“Are you good now, General?” Came her soft voice, low and pleasing. A tendril of golden hair had fallen out of her braided crown and whispered across his cheek in a distracting, and not completely unpleasant, way.

“Where am I?”

She didn't answer right away, but gently removed herself from him and stood beside his bed.

“You’re on a Resistance base on Ajan Kloss.”

He didn’t answer, but watched her back slowly towards the door, never taking her eyes off him.

“I’m going to get the doctor. I'll be right back.”

Then she was gone. 

Kaydel escaped the room as fast as she could without actually running. Her heart was beating fast but she was not sure if it was due to fear or something else, something she didn’t want to ponder at that moment. She stumbled down the hallway where she caught the attention of the medic who had helped her before.

She looked at Kaydel in concern. "What is it dear?"

“The General,” Kaydel said forcing herself to be calm. “He’s awake. He was surprised and—“ she shook her head and pulled her shirt up to hide her aching throat “—he might have re-injured himself. Please, get Dr. Neve.”

The woman peered at her. "Are you all right? 

"Yes, yes of course." Kaydel shook the woman's concern off. "Please."

Still looking unconvinced, the medic left to get Dr. Neve, fiddling with her watch as she went. 

Hands shaking, Kaydel touched her tender throat and waited. A few minutes later, he strode into the room, the medic right behind him.

Dr. Neve didn't wait for an answer, but walked by her into the recovery ward. His eyes were shadowed and mouth set in a grim line.

Kaydel followed them. She was much shorter than either the doctor or the medic, so when she eventually peeked around them to see the General, his green eyes fell upon her once again. He was sitting up, his hair mussed and his face pale. 

"Hello, young man," Dr Neve said briskly. "I'm Dr. Neve. How are you feeling?"

General Hux looked up, a slight twist of his lip marring his otherwise handsome face. "Like I got shot."

Dr. Neve nodded mildly. "Yes, yes you got shot indeed. Twice."

Before he could rejoinder, there were footsteps behind them and Kadel watched as his gaze trained on something over her shoulder, his face hardening, the subtle sneer turning into a full on snarl.

"I hear the patient is awake?" came a cheerful voice from behind her.

Kaydel closed her eyes. Poe Dameron. She felt him behind her, his breath warm on her shoulder.

“Where have you been, Kay?” His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him. “No one’s seen you since last night.”

“I—I was sleeping,” she whispered back defensively, pulling her collar up to hide her throat. “Then I came here.”

He came around to face her, frowning, the skepticism etched deep in his eyes as they scanned her face, dropping briefly to her neck. 

Kay looked away, uncomfortable as she realized she was being stared at by the three other people in the room. Poe seemed to realize it at the same time, and with a slight cough, he turned his attention to the doctor, grinning easily. “What’s the prognosis, doctor? Is Hugs here going to die on us?"

Dr. Neve frowned at the joke. “No, he will not. In spite of his injuries he will survive.”

“Which are?”

“A ruptured liver, a cracked sternum, damaged heart valves, all of which had been repaired. Not to mention the blaster wound to his thigh, which a few centimeters to the right would have ruptured an artery.” Dr Neve turned to General Hux.“You were lucky that she—” he jerked his thumb behind him at Kaydel who started and blushed “—found you and brought you in.”

General Hux glanced at her briefly, his eyes catching the light. “Oh, yes. Lucky,” he muttered, not looking as though he considered himself lucky at all.

“Oh, come on now, Hugs! She saved your life!” Poe’s tone was jovial but his gaze was hard. “Dragged you out of the water and carried you back here herself, even injured.”

Again, Kaydel watched his eyes flick to her. Poe was laying it on rather thick and she didn’t like it .

“Don’t you think you owe her a thank you?”

“Poe—“ she tried to interrupt.

“What is it you want, Dameron?” General Hux glared at Poe, his mouth pinched, cheeks flushing with color. “Surely you are not here to ask after my well being.”

Poe loomed over him, all pretense of civility gone. “I want you to thank Lieutenant Ko Connixhere, for saving your life. Because if it had been me, I would’ve left you there to die.”

“That’s enough, Poe!” The words left Kaydel’s mouth before she had time to think. Everyone in the room turned and stared at her. The look of irritation on Poe’s face was enough to make her flush. She was still not used to his rank, and the title did not come easy to her. Normally he didn't care, but she knew it didn't look good in this kind of situation.

“General Dameron…“ she faltered.

“Lieutenant, a word.” He growled, taking her by the arm. She pulled out of his grip and opened her mouth to tell him off when General Hux let out a rather loud scoff.

“What is it you find so funny, Hugs?” Poe asked in a low voice.

“You’re a General? This is who the Resistance has to look up to for leadership? A hotshot pilot and a little lieutenant who doesn’t know her place—“

“The Resistance isn’t the one that was destroyed, _General_.” Poe spat out the word.

“What are you talking about?” General Hux asked suspiciously.

Poe smirked. “Kylo Ren and Palpatine are dead and the First Order has fallen. The _Steadfast_ was destroyed." 

Kaydel watched the blood drain from General Hux’s cheeks and it dawned on her that he hadn’t known. Which meant—

“Poe, stop!”

She placed her hand on his arm, but he turned and snarled at her. “You are out of line, Lieutenant!”

“No, listen to me—!“

Dr. Neve finally lost his temper. “This is a recovery ward, not your war room!” He glared at them, Poe in particular. “He’s had a terrible ordeal—“

“Yes, so terrible—“ Poe said sarcastically. “You do understand doctor, that you are talking about a man that had entire planets destroyed?”

“He’s my patient!“ the doctor snapped back. “I don’t care if he killed my own mother. I will treat him as I do every one else!"

“Oh how noble of you!”

“Stop!” Kaydel pleaded, desperately, tugging on Poe’s sleeve. "Please, he—"

But it was too late; General Hux had already turned deathly white and he clutched the blankets on his lap so tightly his fingers reddened and knuckles paled.

Dr. Neve stepped forward in concern. 

“The Steadfast…it’s—gone?” 

As he spoke, the room fell abruptly silent, shocked at how he sounded. He was so different from the General Hux they were used to hearing on the holovids, usually so charismatic and intense, that even Poe stopped taunting him.

“It was destroyed over Exegol,” Poe answered carefully, brows drawing together slightly. 

“I see.” General Hux swallowed with apparent difficulty. “When was this?”

“A few days ago.”

“Your cat—“ Kaydel snapped her mouth shut feeling her face heat up. She had forgotten he still didn’t know who she was. 

General Hux’s eyes widened in confusion. “You know about Millicent?”

“Millicent?” Poe’s eyebrows had practically disappeared under his hair,“You have a _cat_?”

At Poe’s tone, anguish flickered across General Hux’s face. It startled her and made her heart clench. He suddenly looked so dangerously close to tears, she was overcome with the unbearable feeling that no one should witness his pain. Anxiety urging her to act, she opened her mouth to say that they should leave, when Dr. Neve beat her to it.

“Enough,”he said gruffly. “He needs to rest. You can interrogate him when he’s well enough, which won’t be anytime tonight.”

Poe looked like he was about to argue, but Kaydel lay her hand on his arm. Frustration passed over his face, but he nodded. “Tomorrow then.”

Dr. Neve just shook his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I took some liberties with all the planets mentioned, especially Dulathia.


	4. No Loss is Token

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this time of uncertainty and dread, I want to provide a place you can escape to where you might find a little hope and a little love.
> 
> Unlike many who have found themselves unemployed during this disaster, I am lucky to have a full time job where I can work from home. Because of that, I have more time, and yet less time, if that makes sense. I will continue updating as often as I can. I will finish this, I promise.

_No Loss is Token_

After they had all left; after the doctor had checked him over and given him more medication for his pain; Armitage lay down on his side and squeezed his eyes shut. He let the tears that had been pressing into the back of his eyelids finally fall down his nose and soak the pillow below his head. He thought of his beloved cat, Millicent, who had given him unconditional love, and was now dead. Everything he’d ever worked for; all that he knew; it was all gone. He had nothing left.

 _It's all gone_ , he thought. _All gone_. 

Stifling a cry, he pressed his open mouth into the pillow, sobbing silently until he knew no more.

~~~~~

When they were outside the recovery ward, Kaydel whirled around to face Poe, blocking his path. "How could you, Poe? How could you—"

"How could I what?' Poe snapped, walking around her. "How could I inform my enemy, whom we are treating rather well, I might add, that he's finished? Easy, Kaydel! Just like that." He pointed back at the recovery ward. 

Kaydel had to scurry to keep up with him, gritting her teeth against the pain in her thigh. "We are not the First Order! We are not cruel!"

"Cruel? You think that was cruel?"

Poe laughed derisively, and the sound made her heart pound in anxiety.

"Cruel, is what he did to Hosnian Prime. Cruel, is what they do to their Storm Troopers!"

"I don't disagree." She folded her arms and glared at him. "How did you know to come here anyways? I didn't send for you."

Poe looked sideways at her. "How do you think? Someone else informed me." 

"The medic," Kaydel realized. Frustration and an ill-placed feeling of betrayal at someone who owed her nothing, simmered inside her.

"Her name is Lin," Poe replied. "And yes. I asked her to let me know when he woke. He's my prisoner—"

"He's not a prisoner!" She lashed out. "He's a spy. _My_ spy. I'm the one who was put in charge of him by General Organa, and I will decide what we do with him!"

"Excuse me?" 

"I have the order," she said stubbornly. "It mandates his rights as a spy for the Resistance, regardless of his place in the First Order."

Exasperation crossed his face. "I doubt General Organa knew who he was—" 

"It doesn't matter. He's under our protection; it was a promise made when he became informer."

He turned and glared at her. "Promises can be broken!" 

She felt her jaw drop, aghast that he could say such a thing. This was not the Poe she knew.

"I don't understand, Kaydel," He said, running his hand through his hair in obvious frustration. "Why are you defending him?"

"I'm not defending his actions," she said firmly. "Not at all."

He raised his eyebrows. 

"I'm not!" she protested. "How could you think that of me?"

"You seemed pretty intent on making me look a fool in there," Poe scoffed dismissively, and continued down the hallway, stopping in front of the mess hall. "He obviously thinks I'm a joke—"

Kaydel rolled her eyes and followed. "Why do you care what he thinks, Poe? He's in no position to do anything. Besides since when have you ever cared about what people think—"

He had just pushed the door open when he fully lost his temper. "I'm a General!" he thundered, causing her to step back. "And you made me look incompetent in front of a high level prisoner—"

"I told you, he's not a prisoner!" She stood her ground, but rose her own voice to match his. "Why won't you listen—!"

" _Excuse me_ , Lieutenant?" Poe's voice was low and cold; colder than she'd ever heard him speak before. "You are insubordinate!"

Kaydel scoffed, but it only made him angrier.

"I should have you court martialed!" His words landed on silence, as everyone in the mess had stopped talking and was staring at them. Finn and Rose were sitting at one of the tables nearest to the door, and had she been looking, Kaydel would have seen their jaws drop and Finn's eggs fall off his fork, halfway to his mouth. 

Instead she was going to say something that forever would change her relationship with the man before her. "Oh, really?" She hissed. Her eyes narrowed; her body felt tightly wound. She was vibrating with anger that made the hair on her arms and neck stand on end. "Like we both should have been after our mutiny?"

Poe reeled back looking as though she had struck him. She knew it was verboten; something they had never, ever discussed; but she couldn't bring herself to care. Not after he had threatened her.

The mess hall began to fill with whispers; cursing, Poe pushed her back into the hallway, letting the swinging door close behind them. His eyes were wide with shock.

"Why the kriffing hell would you bring that up, _now_ , in front of all those people!" 

"Oh, no." She shook her head and took a step back. "You don't get to blame me for that. Not when you started it—"

"Is all this because I broke things off with you, Kay? Because I'm not in love with you?"

At his words, a coldness washed through her and her stomach roiled. Her face flushed and she felt like she might pass out. 

"How dare you say such a thing, Poe Dameron," she gulped, stumbling away from him. "That is—has nothing to do—how _dare_ you?"

A look of shame crossed his face and he opened his mouth to say something, but she had already fled, and all she heard was his voice calling her name, echoing down the hallway after her.

~~~~~

She was so, so angry. The unfairness of it all, the _gall_ of him to say that.. _._ she wanted to scream _._

 _  
_ She ran to the beach and into the water, where she swam and swam until she felt her lungs would burst from strain. She sank into the cold water and let out a muffled scream of bubbles before surfacing, gasping for air. Her muscles burned and her leg ached. As she took in her surroundings, she realized with a flip of fear that she had swum out too far. Gulping in air, she began to make her way back to shore. She moved slowly, her arms and legs beginning to feel like lead.

She passed the escape pod; it had sunk, but the top of it still stuck out of the water, it's domed head shining in the sun.

She was reckless and stupid, just like she had been when she followed Poe in his attempt to take the brig. She had been idealistic then, and more then halfway in love with him. It had not even been a question of not to do it, no matter how much she admired and looked up to General Organa. In her blind confidence, she hadn't even thought about that. 

What a mistake it had been. Holdo and so many others had died, and that was when her infatuation with Poe had died, too. She realized how young she had been, how _stupid_. 

_Such a stupid little girl_. 

When she reached shore, she dragged herself up to the sand where she collapsed. As feeling came back to her legs and she dried in the afternoon sun, she realized how much her leg hurt. It hurt a lot. Sitting up, she gingerly pressed around it. She hissed in pain and then collapsed back to the sand, staring up at the blue sky. She was in trouble, but she couldn't seem to bring herself to care. 

She must have passed out, because she was suddenly aware of her name being called from far away, and then hands were lifting her.

"Kaydel, for fucks sake—"

It was Poe. She was still angry at him, but she was so tired and cold, she didn't care who her savior was at that moment. 

She really had to stop doing this to herself. 

"You really need to stop doing this to yourself," Poe growled, lifting her into his arms. 

Kaydel laughed. 

~~~~~

Armitage woke to a loud commotion outside the door.

“—can’t believe you—“

“—don't say anything more—”

The door swung open and Armitage shut his eyes, pretending to still be asleep.

“Shh! Quiet!” a voice hissed.

“Oh, who the kriffing fu—“

“Poe!”

He recognized that voice. It was the the little lieutenant—the one who knew of Millicent. But now she sounded weak, her voice low and gravelly. 

“You have no right to be giving me orders right now, Kaydel. Not about this.”

“Put her down here.”

He was sure that was the medic from before—Ling? Lin? He couldn't remember. The commotion moved closer and around the end of his bed. If he happened to open his eyes, he would see what was going on. 

“Take off your pants.”

“What!” 

He could hear outrage in her voice and he felt the overwhelming urge to see her face. 

“Oh, sweetie,” Medic (he was sure it was Lin) said patronizingly. “It’s not like we haven’t it all before.”

“ _He_ hasn’t.” 

“He’s asleep, dear.”

Armitage frowned internally. They were talking about him. Why would she be referring to him? That meant—

“Turn around, Poe.”

“But I’ve already—“

“Turn around!”

He couldn’t help it. Armitage opened his eyes, and they fell on the profile of Poe Dameron. He looked a combination of uncomfortable and furious, his arms crossed over his chest.

_Oh._ There was a relationship there. Something inside him twisted; prickled.

He let his gaze slip to the bed where Lieutenant Connix— _Kaydel,_ was her first name— had her hips in the air and was wriggling her pants down over her bottom, exposing her thighs and underwear. The medic gasped and Armitage felt his own breath draw in at what else he saw.

On top of her leg; the one closest to him, was an extremely painful looking wound, all red and purple and swollen. But of course at the moment he was staring, Connix turned her head and glared at him. He snapped his eyes shut, his heart pounding in his chest. He waited for her to tell Dameron he’d been looking, but she didn’t say anything. 

“Well that’s a rather nasty looking infection you’ve got there." The medic was saying, sounding equal parts exasperated and worried. "Even after everything that happened yesterday? After everything I told you, you still went swimming?”

"I didn't think—"

“Dammit, Kay!" Poe was almost yelling. "What the hell did you think was going to happen?”

"Don't yell at me, Poe. I'm still angry with you."

"I know that. I'm not too happy with you either. But I still care."

Armitage felt his lip curl at the sentiment, but at the same time his stomach twisted uncomfortably and he frowned.

"Please go, Poe. Thank you for bringing me here, but I don't really want to see you right now."

There was a moment of silence so tense that even Armitage felt the discomfort of it. 

"Fine," Poe replied unhappily. "But we aren't done here."

As he heard brisk footsteps cross in front of him and then a door open and close, Armitage risked opening his eyes again.

Medic Lin was leaning over Connix, pressing around the wound.

“Ouch!” Connix jerked her knee up and her thigh trembled, white and tender looking.

Armitage felt his cheeks heat up. She looked so soft—like the mallow sweets he'd so desperately wanted as a child, made from white sugar and gelatin. 

_What are you blithering about in that damn mind of yours?_

Armitage twitched at the voice that spoke in his ear. _No. No, no, no_ —

 _Mallow?_ His father’s voice scoffed cruelly. _How would you know what mallow tastes like?_

 _Shut up, shut up._ He squeezed his eyes shut. _Shut up_.

_Oh, Armitage, when did that ever work._

_There's always a first time._

“I’m going to have to lance it,” Medic Lin was saying. "But what is that?"

"What?"

"Your neck"

"Oh, erm...nothing, just...a...nothing."

"That is not nothing."

Armitage looked up and his insides immediately went cold.

On her neck, exposed over the top of her medical gown, were large finger shaped bruises—bruises that had come from him when he'd rolled her beneath him after he'd woken up.

"Really, they're nothing," Connix said sharply, pulling away. "The person who made them was frightened and made a mistake. That's all there is to it. It won't happen again!"

Armitage felt his face flush at her defense of him. Resentment and relief warred within him, and his father snickered. _Pathetic.._.

Armitage pressed his face into the pillow. _Go away,_ he thought. _Go away_. 

"Fine, but if it happens again...don't move! _You_ are staying _put_!"

"Wait! What are you doing with my clothes?" Connix protested, her voice panicky. 

"Taking them so you can't leave here until I give you permission to do so!" she snapped back. "Since you can't seem to listen to me otherwise."

"You're going to leave me naked?"

"You've got a medical gown on," Medic Lin replied unsympathetically. “If you have to go into a lake after a sinking escape pod again, at least do what you’re told after and rest? And don't go in a second time!”

Armitage felt a shock go through him. She’d gone into a _lake?_ For him? But why? He'd thought maybe she'd found him or—

_Think, you stupid boy. She knew you had a cat..._

Right.

He heard a yelp and peeked, barely opening his eyes. She looked horribly pale with a look of immense pain on her face as her leg was wrapped. He could see her chin wobble in an effort not to cry. His own leg twinged in sympathy, which he found odd. He'd never twinged in sympathy for anyone; still, he couldn’t seem to help it. _It’s because she saved you_ , he told himself. _Anyone would feel bad..._

 _Not you_ , his father countered. _You don’t feel bad_ , _Armitage, you never do..._

Armitage grit his teeth silently. It had only been a matter of time before his father returned to taunt him. He should have known when his conscious spoke to him in his last minutes on the _Steadfast._ When he was under stress or duress, Brendol always returned. 

“I know you’re awake.”

Armitage opened his eyes, jolted suddenly out of his thoughts. He blinked uncomfortably. They were alone now, and Lieutenant Connix was lying on her back, her leg bandaged and propped up; an intravenous tube was in her arm. Her expression was calm, but her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glossy with fever.

“What happened to your leg?” His voice came out on a croak, dry and cracked.

“I got shot," she replied. "At the battle of Exegol, but you don’t know anything about that do, you?”

“No,” he said in a soft, snide tone. “But I’m sure I'll eventually hear all about it.”

She ignored his bait and tilted her chin towards his legs. “What happened to your leg?”

“I got shot,” he mimicked. “By FN-2187—“

“His name is Finn.”

Armitage rolled his eyes in contempt. “Finn. I got shot by Finn. But you already know that, Lieutenant Ko Connix.”

She raised her eyebrows at that, and he felt smug that he had surprised her. It didn't last long.

“Who shot you in the chest?” 

Her words were tossed out in such a careless manner, he felt a sudden sharp burst of anger. What was with all the questions? “General Pryde.” He choked on the man’s name. “He discovered I was your spy.”

“Ah.” She looked up at the ceiling. “Well, he’s dead now...and you are not.”

He blinked. “No,” he agreed, not knowing what else to say. "I am not dead."

"No."

"I suppose there is one good thing to come out of having everything else in my life destroyed."

"Your life?"

"General Pryde's death."

She snickered and he almost smiled. Almost.

They lay silently for a few minutes, but it was not uncomfortable. It was almost...companionable. So much so that Armitage was able to gather his courage to speak of the bantha in the room.

“You know about my cat,” he said finally, his heart squeezing painfully at the reminder of her soft fur.

“Yes,” she replied softly. “She walked on your data pad once, do you remember?”

“Yes.” Of course he did. He had been so flustered over the jumble of letters and numbers she had sent, he had broken his detached demeanor and told her it has been his cat.

Of course at the time he hadn’t known it was her. Until then he hadn’t cared. Strange how all it took was her simple response:

 _Pets_ _,_ she had typed _. Are a joy to have._

She had understood, and something had happened within him at that moment that he still did not understand. Something unusually sentimental for him...

"What was her name?"

"Millicent." A lump formed in his throat. "Her name was Millicent."

"I'm sorry," she murmured. 

His heart skipped and sped up and his mouth felt suddenly as though it were not his own. He licked his lips. "Are you?" 

She looked over at him, her brow furrowed. "Yes, of course."

"Why?"

She frowned. "Because no matter who you are, it hurts to lose someone, or something you love."

"Sentimental drivel," he muttered roughly, unable to keep her gaze. “So how does it feel?" He asked, quickly changing the subject. "Finding out your spy was someone you hate?” The bitterness he tried so hard to keep to himself, leaked through, regardless. 

Her frown deepened. “I don’t hate you.”

His stomach flipped. “What?” He wasn't sure he heard her right. "You don't hate me?"

She stared at him as though trying to work out a puzzle. “I don’t even know you, General Hux. How could I hate you?”

“I’m not a general anymore,” he mumbled, looking away.

“That’s still your title, so until you tell me to call you something else—”

“Hux is fine,” he interrupted. "But..." He swallowed, not sure he wanted to know the answer to the question he was going to ask. "Why don't you hate me?

“Well, _Hux_ —" She emphasized his name and there was a tinge of churlishness in her tone. "—I don’t particularly like you, but I don’t hate you. I just don't. You've never done anything to me that I could hate you for."

He didn’t know what to say. He was so used to being on the offensive, spitting retorts and cruelties before anyone could do it first, he had never thought about what he might do if someone expressed something less than extreme dislike of him. She had already apologized for his cat, and now she was acting as though he were a petulant child for assuming she'd hate him. 

Who was she?

“Other people do, though…”

“What?” He asked distractedly.

“Hate you,” she said mildly as though it were no big deal.“Poe Dameron and Finn, Rose Tico—”

 _The biter_ , he remembered.

“—others who lost their families when you blew up the Hosnian System; Hays Minor—”

“Yes, well,” he interrupted, turning his back to her as his stomach soured. “People who lose the things they care about usually do.”

It had only been a matter of time before she brought that up. People always brought that up.

 _Of course they do. Really, Armitage, did you actually think she wouldn’t care?_ His father’s voice was gleeful.

“'It's understandable,” she continued, either not taking the hint or ignoring it. "But I'm just curious."

“About what?” He practically growled, staring at the row of empty beds. Why in kriffing hell did they put her right next to him when they had all these beds? And why weren't there more people? Hadn't they just won the war? Shouldn't there be more injured—

“About you."

He froze. "What?"

"About what happened to you that made you into the person you are, Armitage Brendol Hux. Someone must have hurt you terribly, that you could blow up a planet and not care."

"Who says I don't care!" 

The silence that fell between them was stunning in the aftermath of his outburst.

No one had ever spoken to him like that before and he had never responded to any bait with such candor. Never. It turned his insides liquid with shame and fury.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, girl." He retorted icily, reverting to the basic insult of removing her title, name, and reducing her to nothing but her gender. He would make her young and stupid in his mind, and hopefully make her feel the same. 

"No, I don't suppose I do." Her voice was so quiet he almost didn't hear her. Somehow he had the feeling she wasn't speaking to him, but more herself. It didn't make him feel any better.

They didn't speak again, and after a long time, he heard her breathing deepen and even out.

Miserable, he stayed awake, his thoughts playing her words over and over in his head. She wasn’t wrong; he felt very little when he thought of the billions of people killed on Snoke’s—and in turn, his—orders. He had shut that part of him off years ago, and wasn’t keen to turn it back on now.

 _Or ever_ , he thought bitterly.

_You are weak, boy,_ his father sneered. _You were always weak_. 

Armitage covered his ears with his ruined hands as his father laughed and laughed.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta, and while I normally don't use one because I am impatient and usually dump my stories into one chapter, if anyone wants to correct my horrid mistakes with spelling, grammar, or all my inconsistencies, they can have the job.


	5. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: Sorry, it was pointed out to me that the post said it was updated in April, not May, which was a mistake. I changed it to today, even though it was a couple days ago.

_For now the devil, that told me I did well,_  
_Says that this deed is chronicled in hell._

_Richard II, Act V, scene v_

_Grief_

Armitage was picking at his breakfast and feeling irritated and bored. He had nothing to do, but was too proud to ask for a book or paper. He knew they wouldn’t give him anything that connected to their network, so he sulked in silence, envious of the holopad his roommate had her head buried in. 

Lieutenant Connix was reading furiously, making notes, her lips mouthing along with unheard words. Occasionally she frowned as she navigated around, the _tap tap tap_ sound ceasing as her fingers hovered above the glass.

He sighed. He should probably sleep more, but as he’d already slept for longer at any one time in this medbay than he’d ever done in his entire life; he was beginning to feel antsy. 

_“Sleep is for the weak,”_ Brendol whispered in his ear. “ _Get up. Leave before they kill you.”_

Armitage closed his eyes. “ _There’s nowhere for me to go.”_

“Hux?” 

He jumped, dropping his spoon.

“What?” he snapped, his heart beating loudly in his chest, his father’s snicker echoing in his ears.

“I have a question, but you’re not going to want to answer me.”

“Then don’t ask!”

Armitage pickup his spoon again. The porridge was bland and gluey, but nutritious, or so they told him. 

“But I’m curious,” Lieutenant Connix continued.

“Do you ask obnoxious and invasive questions to everyone you meet?” He scowled and shoved the porridge in his mouth. It had congealed and was harder to swallow.

“Just you,” she replied, then without waiting a beat — “I want to know how you live with yourself.”

He choked, barely managing to get the food down. “What?” His voice sounded strangled, and his eyes watered as he choked. He pounded on his chest. 

She had that expression in her eyes again — the one that made his heart lurch in fear and hope. The one that didn’t make sense.

“I was just thinking…How do you live with yourself after killing so many people?”

“Not this again,” Armitage muttered, putting his spoon down and wiping his mouth with the back of his finger. They hadn’t even provided a napkin; heathens that they were. “I try not to think about it,” he said snapped, irritated. “But _someone_ keeps bringing it up.”

Lieutenant Connix looked away, silent, and Armitage felt uncomfortable. Had he hurt her feelings?

_“Why do you care, Armitage?,” his father hissed. “She’s rebel scum with no loyalty…”_

_“I don’t care!,”_ he thought. “ _I don’t —“_

“Is it difficult to not think about it?” 

“Why?” He spat the word out, his voice harsh sounding in his ears. “Why would you ask that?” Lieutenant Connix flinched, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t she just leave it be? 

“Because I want to know.” She was playing with her spoon, turning it over as she stared into her bowl. “How am I supposed to move on after what _I’ve_ done. Then I thought…” she looked up at him, genuine interest in her eyes. “I thought maybe you would have the answer.”

“Because I’ve killed so many people,” he said sarcastically, but feeling the well of hysteria rising within him. He took a deep breath and pushed down the feeling that he knew if he let out, would destroy him.

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“And what have you done,” he sneered, instinctively dismissing her. 

“Oh you think it’s impossible that I should have anything to regret, do you?” she mocked him. 

He was taken aback by her quiet ferocity. “So tell me.” And he meant it. It was a simple request, and yet he surprised himself at his genuine interest. 

Her eyebrows rose. She had obviously not expected him to be so curious about herself. 

“A year ago, I followed Poe Dameron into a mutiny. We disregarded the orders of General Organa and Vice-Admiral Holdo, all because we thought we knew better.” She laughed, but it was a bitter, self-deprecating sound. “We didn’t. Not at all. And as a result, many died.”

Armitage started, realization coming to him. “After your fleet evacuated D’Qar,” he said quietly, almost to himself. 

“Yes. You remember.” 

He wasn’t looking at her. “You destroyed our dreadnaught, “the _Fulminatrix_ ,” over D’Qar.”

“And you wiped out our entire bomber fleet.” Lieutenant Connix replied. “Not to mention, you killed many of us when you started picking off our escape shuttles that were headed to Crait. Poe and I tried to find a way to disable your tracker, which is why Rose and Finn were on the Supremacy when you captured them.That entire mission was not sanctioned by General Organa, or Vice-Admiral Holdo. In order to save what remained of us, Holdo rammed The Supremacy.”

It was painful to remember that loss and the anger that he had endured from Snoke after the _Fulminatrix_ was destroyed. It was also strange to think about it being because this little woman participated in a mutiny. He couldn’t help the look on his face, which he knew was rather stunned and disbelieving. 

She gave a small shrug, a miserable expression crossing her face. “You thought me incapable.” The smile that followed was wry.

“I always thought that attack was uncharacteristic of Holdo,” he admitted, then shook his head. “But no, I have seen your insubordination with Poe Dameron. You are capable, though I have to admit I’m surprised at _who_ you disobeyed. But why was he promoted to being a General?”

“There were so few of us left,” she replied softly.

He sneered at that, uncomfortable with the way her voice tugged on his heart. “If I had been your precious princess **,** I would have had you both shot.”

If he thought this pronouncement was going to shock her, it didn’t. She merely snorted and gave him a look to say she knew what he was trying to do. 

“Yes, well, I have tried to understand it myself. But I believe we had lost too many after Crait, and G-General Organa couldn’t bear to lose more.”

He noticed how her voice hitched on the general’s name, a flush of shame crossing her face, then turning to anger. 

“So you feel guilty for what you did,” he said flatly. 

“But you don’t.”

“I don’t — no. I don’t know.” He groped for words, feeling uncustomarily out of his depth. That was what war was. Why did they not seem to understand that? It frustrated him to no end, the kind of moral superiority these rebel fighters always carried around like a badge they could flash when they needed to excuse their actions. 

“That’s war.” It came out harsher than he intended and she bristled, her eyes narrowing. 

“A war you started,” she said accusingly. 

“To restore order in a galaxy that is falling apart under the weight of its own greed and corruption,” he shot back, though feeling that it was not quite the whole truth anymore. 

“Restore order? How is destroying planets restoring order?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“It’s not that simple,” he said impatiently. “Sometimes you have to do terrible things to some to make it better for many.”

“Oh, I see,” she said scathingly, her eyes flashing brightly. “You think killing billions of innocent people makes people feel safe from…from what?” She tossed her head. “The First Order was the worst thing that could have ever happened to the galaxy.”

“And I suppose you think the New Republic was a good and legitimate government?” He scoffed derisively. “They were weak-willed and fractionated — ”

“It wasn’t perfect, no, but do you really think a galaxy run by fascists backed by the Siths would be any better? Billions are dead —”

“And how many died of corruption and starvation during the Old Republic? The New Republic? They failed. They always fail!”

“But they were free!”

“Free to do what?” he laughed, but it was hollow, forced. “Starve?”

“Free to choose who represented them, free from the fear that they would be destroyed, free to live and love—“

“Idealistic twaddle!”

“Rather idealism and hope than being forced to live under the rigid rule of men who only wanted power for themselves!” she spat. “Finn told me what you said when they asked you why you had turned spy —“

Armitage internally winced, remembering how he’d taunted the traitor and Dameron. He’d been so desperate, so angry, and they always brought out the worst in him.

“—so beating Kylo Ren was all that mattered. Nothing else? That is not the actions of a man trying to change the universe but to rule it!”

“So what?” He returned, flushing with anger and humiliation. “Should I pretend I’m a noble man? See, that’s the difference between your group of ragtag rebels and an organized government….You all see yourself as the heroes, the freedom fighters; a rebellion against what you say is tyranny, but the truth is the republics you so desperately fight for never last. Too many suffer under your so-called freedom. In the end, they always want others telling them what to do, giving them food and shelter. Without that, freedom means nothing!”

“Imperialism does more damage to a people than starvation in the end, and it never ever provides enough food and shelter, regardless. Slaves and indentured labor, that’s what eventually fuels your power. Fear and an iron fist. And for what? So a few, like you, can wield power doing whatever they want while everyone else suffers? And bringing the Sith into it, what a grand move that was. Did you really believe they would have let you lead them?”

“I—” He ran his hand over his scruff, agitated. She was in dangerous territory and his ego was barely hanging on. “I have no love for the Sith! That’s part of the reason I turned to you with information!“

She snorted. “And you’re going to tell me you actually had power over Kylo Ren, over Snoke and Emperor Palpatine?” She shook her head. “No. Whatever power you think you had was an illusion, and look what happened…You lost.” 

He blanched but she wasn’t done. She bit each word, her teeth snapping as she ripped into all the binds he had laid fast around his heart. 

“You lost, Hux—not your First Order—you. They didn’t care about you one bit. You were dispensable and forgotten. In the end they tried to kill you, and you had no one. No one.”

Hux’s vision whitened. He stared at his bowl but he didn’t see it. He felt sick. She had seen right through him, and with utter abandon, ripped into him and torn out his soul, everything that made him who he was. And it was black. It was dead. His greatest fear and the very realness of it, was laid out before him. 

He wanted to rail against her, tell her she was wrong, but she wasn’t. She dismissed him, but no more than he dismissed himself. He had always felt like he wasn’t good enough, and no matter how hard he reached for the top, he remained firmly at the bottom. At that moment he realized it had never changed and it never would. He came from nothing, and that was what he always would be. 

_I am nothing_ , he thought.

_“There it is_ ,” Brendol’s voice whispered in his ear. “ _Useless, weak slip of a boy…”_

He had forgotten her presence, but when she tried to apologize, he was jerked back to her and the pain and humiliation she had forced upon him. 

“I’m sorr—“ 

“Don’t—!” He forced out, agony gripping his chest. “Please, _don’t._ ”

She fell quiet and they sat silently until Armitage felt the nerve to address something that had been nagging at him since he had found out about it.

“Tell me about Exegol,” he said finally, not looking at her. There was a pleading note in his tone he detested; and the shame bubbled inside him, his face flushing with it. “Tell me.”

And so she told him, and it was the final blow to a lifetime’s work. His dreams were ash, and he couldn’t stop the despair that gripped his heart. His father stayed mercifully silent, and when he lay down, she said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but I'm now jobless. I have joined the millions looking for work. *sigh*
> 
> I now have a beta! The very kind and lovely (and talented!) Gtr4evr has done a fabulous job keeping my dialogue on track and making sense, and gently informing me when my adherence to canon has slipped. She knows so much, and I'm forever grateful. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone. 
> 
> A note on canon: I will do my best to keep it accurate, but I may just go off into my own world, so be forewarned.


	6. Abeyance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are my own.

_"I know the night lives inside you. I know grave,_   
_sad errors were made, dividing you, and hiding_   
_you from you inside..."_

_Abeyance_ by Rebecca Foust

It was in the wee hours of the following morning, as he listened to Lieutenant Connixtoss and turn, when Armitage realized he had given up. 

He had never imagined he could be here…In a Resistance hospital bed, wearing threadbare clothing, with more facial hair he’d ever let himself grow in his life…

Yet here he was. And he didn’t care. He’d just…let go, and there was nothing else to say about it.

_I have something to say about it,_ Brendol sniffed.

Armitage ignored him and tucked his hands under his cheek. Even his father couldn’t hurt him anymore, as there was nothing left to prove. All that he’d spent his entire life working towards, was gone. All the people he’d killed, the planets he’d destroyed, meant nothing in the end. Nothing was left but silence. The exhaustion that had plagued him, especially in the last few years, had finally been lifted. He had no deadlines and no one to please. Even the thought of being imprisoned for life or sentenced to death did nothing to spark fear through him. He was numb when he thought about it. 

Just then, Lt. Connix let out a moan. He glanced over at her.

Well…He was _mostly_ numb. 

He sighed. She’d been keeping him awake with whatever horrible thing she was dreaming about. 

She had not spoken a word to him since she finished telling him about the Battle of Exegol, and too wrapped up in his own pain. He’d not noticed she hadn’t eaten or taken her pain medication. 

He’d found it difficult to ignore her, for she sounded too much like the children he shared rooms with at the Academy; or even worse, those in the Storm Trooper program, wailing for their mothers at night, long after they had been separated from them, long after they should have forgotten. 

He had never known what to do with children like that; children who remembered their mothers. 

“Amma...,” she whimpered softly.

He sat up, heart pounding with emotion at the word. Was she calling for her mother?

“Lieutenant!” He hissed softly.

She didn’t reply. 

“Lieutenant Ko Connix,” he said, louder this time.

Again, she didn’t respond. He hesitated, then said her name. 

“Kaydel.”

She only moaned in reply, twisting in her sheets. Armitage moved to the edge of the bed and gingerly placed his feet on the cold floor. He stood slowly, letting the feel of gravity press familiarly on his shoulders. It was the first time he stood on his own since recovering from surgery and he hoped when he took a step he wouldn’t just fall down into a heap on the ground, or they’d both be in trouble. This damn place was so primitive. It had no way for him to contact the on-duty medic without yelling like an idiot, which he wasn’t about to do. 

Shuffling over to her, he found her feverish and in the throes of some sort of night terror. Her blonde hair was loose and stringy around her face. Tendrils clung to her forehead, and without thinking, he reached down and brushed them away. She flinched but did not wake, and after a moment of being frozen in fear, he pressed his palm to her forehead. She was clammy, her fever breaking into a sweat. That was a good sign. 

In her sleep, Kaydel let out a cry, and a tear slipped out of the corner of her eye. Startled, Armitage let his hand slip down her cheek. 

“Hush,” he murmured, catching the tear and letting his wet finger drift over her skin. “It’s alright. You’re alright.” 

She looked so small and frail, and it tugged uncomfortably at his chest. He pulled away, only to find himself caught, his fingers clutched in hers. Her small fist wrapped around them like a child would with a hand too big for its own. 

Staring down at where she touched him, a deep ache he’d never felt before made its presence known within him, just behind his ribs. It did so with such apparent ease, it felt as though there had been a hole there his entire life, waiting to be filled; only it was one he’d never known existed until now.

He had known her for all of two days and she had already touched him twice that he could remember, both times on his hands. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him except out of rage or cruelty. 

“What are you doing?” 

Startled, Armitage looked up to find the medic—Medic Lin was her name— staring at him from the doorway, a frown on her face. 

“Pardon,” he said, adapting his most arrogant tone to cover how startled he was, gesturing to where Kaydel clung to his hand. “But I’m not doing anything.”

Her frown deepened. “Why are you standing above her like Death, himself?””

He hadn’t been expecting _that_. “Excuse me?” 

She ignored him, but crossed over and looked down at Kaydel; the girl’s eyes fluttered, but she was quiet. “Fever dream?” She asked, placing her hand on her forehead. 

Armitage was surprised. “Yes, she was making a lot of…noise.” He wrinkled his nose distastefully. “It was keeping me awake.” 

She nodded and gently tugged his hand from Kaydel’s grasp. “The fever’s broken. You can go back to sleep. She’ll be alright now.”

But Armitage stayed where he was, unable to look away from the woman who made such astute observations. “What did you mean by that?”

“By what?” She asked distractedly, taking Kaydel’s temperature; it was normal. 

“You called me ’Death.’”

She didn’t look at him. “You’re not exactly known for your benevolent nature, General Hux. If you hadn’t noticed, death tends to follow wherever you go.”

“As I’m sure it does you, being a medic.” He looked around at the empty room. “Though I have to wonder where all your patients are. Did you not just win a war? Shouldn’t you have more injured?”

She met his gaze unwaveringly. “As I’m sure you know, when star destroyers are involved, casualties tend to be absolute. People don’t come back injured — Rather, they don’t come back at all.”

Armitage inclined his head in acknowledgement. Being on one of those battle cruisers, he wasn’t usually privy to what occurred on the ground, though he probably should have been. And she wasn’t wrong. When ships were destroyed, there were often no survivors. His heart clenched. He hadn’t liked losing his men, contrary to how most people seemed to think. It had hurt him. 

He watched as she carefully tucked the blankets around Kaydel and then gently pat her hand as though she were a child. It never failed to intrigue him, how easily people touched one another. 

Before he could think more on the subject, she turned to him, and he stepped back, taken by surprise at her expression. Her eyes were hard and her mouth was drawn into a tight line. “Don’t touch her again, General.”

The injustice stung deep. It was amazing how he could still be made to feel so small, even after all these years. It only took one moment when he was off his guard to feel like a five year old boy, shamed by his father. 

So much for being numb.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said pompously, sitting down and making a show of rearranging his blankets. “As you could see, she was the one touching me.”

Her frown deepened. ”If I were you, I’d be very, very careful with Lieutenant Ko Connix, especially with regards to her well-being. She might very well be the only one standing between you and death.”

“I didn’t do anything to her,” he spat out, feeling his face flush in anger. “Nor do I plan to!”

“Good.” The harshness was gone, and she was once again professional and polite. “Now sleep.”

He watched as she walked out the door, seething at her implication that he might do something—anything—and he shuddered. He was a hard man. He was harsh and he could be cruel; but he certainly didn’t condone rape, and he didn’t brutalize when it wasn’t necessary, certainly not out of the context of war.

Well, that was a lie. He had brutalized people when there was something he wanted to achieve. And if he were really being honest with himself, he had done it out of the sheer desire to see people hurt. Just as he had hurt.

The difference now was he was in no position of power here, and she was not his enemy, not any longer. There would be no reason for him to hurt her, no reason at all. 

“If you’re so worried I’d touch her, why did you put her right next to me?” He mumbled crossly to himself, pulling the blanket up and tucking it under his chin.

_Petulant child._

“Shut up, Brendol.” He said aloud, and his inner critic went silent. 

It was only when he was almost asleep, he realized Medic Lin hadn’t answered his question on why she’d called him Death.

********************

Kaydel woke feeling awful. She had the distant memory of dreams she couldn’t quite remember, but were terrible nonetheless. She thought at one point she’d heard voices during the night, but that was also vague and distant. Then she remembered Armitage Hux and everything she had said to him, and her face flushed with shame. 

She looked over at him. He was still asleep, his chest rising and falling gently with his breath. His brow was pinched and his mouth was turned down into a frown, even in sleep.

“Stop staring, Lieutenant.” He spoke without opening his eyes. 

She jumped, stifling a yelp. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. “Goddess, sake, Hux!” She growled and sat up.

He opened his eyes, unamused by his apparent attempt to disarm her. Anyone else would have been snickering. Finn or Poe definitely would have found it funny. 

He sat up as well, looking at her carefully. Even with the facial hair, the difference was marked in the way his eyes no longer held that sunken look of someone on the verge of death.

“You look much better,” she said cautiously.

“I can’t say the same for you,” he replied with no malice. “Do you have any idea how loud you dream?”

Kaydel felt a flush blooming up her neck. “No…”

They were interrupted as the door swung open and Dr. Neve entered, followed by the medic Kaydel now knew was named Lin. The one who had told Poe that Hux had woken up. She scowled internally. It wasn’t the woman’s fault, but she felt annoyed by it just the same. She was a small woman, with gray hair and blue eyes. Her gaze fell on Kaydel and she smiled. She came over to her as Dr. Neve went to Hux.

“How’re you feeling this morning, Lieutenant?” She asked, setting down a pair of pants and a shirt, much like the one Hux was wearing. She picked up Kaydel’s wrist and flipped open her holo device. 

“Fine,” Kaydel said sullenly, then looked longingly at the pants. 

“You had a rather nasty fever last night, but it broke before we would be forced to intervene.”

“Oh?” Kaydel frowned, her irritation at the woman forgotten.

Then without asking, she flipped the blankets off Kaydel’s leg and lifted her gown, revealing her thigh.

“Hey—“ Kaydel gave a nervous glance to her neighbor, but he was in the midst of his own battle with clothing, with Dr. Neve attempting to pull off his sweatshirt. She looked back down at her thigh and grimaced. It looked terrible. Not as bad as the night before, but it was mottled and the skin looked like it was trying to knit together in a strange way. 

“Much better, but…“ She frowned and prodded slightly, causing Kaydel to wince. It wasn’t the pain of an infection, but of something deeper. “Dr. Neve? Would you come take a look at this?”

Dr. Neve turned, revealing Hux. He was staring at the ceiling, flushed from the roots of his bright hair to the waistband of his pants. Right in the middle of his sternum, a red and white scar stood out, the color harsh against his pale skin. 

“What is it?”

Hux looked relieved as Dr. Neve turned away, taking his attention away from him. Struggling to put his shirt back on, he looked over at Kaydel and she watched as his eyes lingered on her leg, his expression schooled in one of indifference.

Dismayed, Kaydel looked down at her own scar and then back at his as it disappeared under his clothes. Her scar looked worse. Much worse.

“Hmm…” Dr. Neve frowned as he also poked and prodded. “I think you are going to have a bit longer recovery than expected, Lieutenant. The muscle is damaged.”

“What?” Kaydel exclaimed. “Can’t you just…do for me what you did for him?”

Dr. Neve looked at her from under his bushy eyebrows. “Bacta works on fresh wounds, but this has been healed and strained and reopened more times in the last week than it should have been. You’re going to have that scar, probably for the rest of your life. The limp—“

“Limp?” She looked up, aghast. 

“— maybe for a few months, if you take care of yourself. No climbing trees, no running, no swimming —

Kaydel felt her face redden. 

“I make no judgement.” He continued kindly. I’m just telling you the facts.” He turned serious. “You can be released tomorrow, but only on the condition you do as I said. I mean it, Lieutenant. NO climbing.”

Kaydel blinked. _How did he know?_

But when he glared she agreed. “No climbing. I promise.” 

“Or anything else, for that matter.”

She lifted her hand to her heart. “I promise.”

“I’ll have Medic Lin bring you a cane.” 

As they left, she felt Hux’s eyes on her. “What is it?” She asked, picking up a pair of cream colored sweatpants off the end of the bed. 

“What is a Lieutenant doing, running around swimming and climbing trees?”

His expression was disdainful, but, interested…She felt her heart beat faster. She lifted the clothes she had been provided and held them up. “Close your eyes, please, and I’ll tell you.”

Irritation flashed across his face and he opened his mouth to — to what? Tell her off? But he snapped it shut and inclined his head in acknowledgement as he closed his eyes. 

She smiled to herself as she lifted the hospital gown over her head. 

“I’m from Dulathia,” she said, pulling the worn sweatshirt on. 

There was a pause.

“Oh?” The word was casual.

She glanced at him, but his eyes were still closed. “We are known for not much liking the indoors.”

“I see. I do not know much about the more…singular planets.”

She glared at his placid demeanor. “Shouldn’t you know more about the galaxy you planned to rule?” 

“I know what I need to, such as Dulathians do not usually leave their planet. And yet, here you are.”

“Yes, here I am.” Donning the sweatpants, she lay down on her side and her hands under her head. “You can open your eyes now. ”

He opened his eyes to find her staring at him, her eyes alight with interest. He hoped it did not show how very intrigued he was about her being from Dulathia. It was a planet he knew very little about, as they kept mostly to themselves. And they had a most interesting social order, one of near equality, but more of a matriarchy. Women ran Dulathia.

Cynically, he wondered if that was why they never seemed to start wars. 

“And where are you from?” She asked. 

“Oh, are we doing this?” He asked scathingly, feeling his defenses rise. He didn’t like being asked about his background because he hated thinking of it. 

She raised her eyebrows at him. “You started it.”

He wanted to retort that he hadn’t meant to turn into a sparkling conversationalist, but she was right. 

“I’m from Arkanis,” he admitted finally. “Where it rains, all the bloody time.”

He did not say they were forced to flee before his home had been destroyed and his mother had been killed by the New Republic. He never heard exactly what happened to her and he had never bothered to try. Something deep within him, so deep, he had no conscious thought of it, told him not to; it would just bring up emotions better left undisturbed. 

“It doesn’t rain much on the Dulathian plains where I’m from,” she said, tilting her head back. “But the thunderstorms are magnificent.”

He watched her as she smiled. She was looking at the ceiling as if she saw the sky of her home world and not the white ceiling of the recovery ward. His breath caught in his throat and he looked away, swallowing hard. He had never felt that way about Arkanis or any place he’d ever lived. He had adored his ships, the ones he had designed and lovingly crafted; but they were not the same as a planet.

To his great relief the door opened and staff came in bearing their breakfast trays. He no longer had to think on it, instead concentrating on his breakfast.

But his relief was short-lived, for it was another day of bad caf and bland porridge—and then along came a very bad-tempered Poe Dameron.

Armitage was trying to decide whether to finish his caf when Dameron entered the recovery ward with an entourage of people behind him. Some looked menacing, some curious. One rather starchy looking man looked bored. 

“Morning, Hugs,” Dameron said brightly, his eyes hard. 

“Ah, General Dameron,” Armitage said, lazily pushing his tray away, as if he were greeting him over tea. “How lovely to see you —”

“No,” Kaydel interjected. “You are not doing this here, Poe. Not now.”

Dameron’s smile tightened. “I don’t remember asking you, Lieutenant Ko Connix.” His tone was pleasant but there was a warning there. 

She heeded none of it. “I wasn’t waiting for you to ask me,” she snapped, her brown eyes flashing. “You can’t ambush him here! He is not on trial.”

“He will be!”

“He doesn’t have representation —”

“Yes, he does!” Poe pointed at the bored looking man who straightened slightly at being addressed. “This is Reginald Kane. He’s been appointed his lawyer —”

“By who?” Kaydel demanded, barely giving the man a glance. “What are his qualifications? His expertise? His home planet? You can’t just appoint lawyers without asking the person they are to be representing!” 

Poe drew himself up. “I think you’ll find I can, and I will. You keep telling me it’s not within my purview as General to change things as I see fit, but as I understand it, he is nothing more than a prisoner of war —“

“He’s not!”

“Dammit, Kaydel, he is!”

“I am right here, General; Lieutenant.” Armitage interrupted them, feeling bemused. “You can address me directly.”

“No, he can’t!” Kaydel snapped at him.

She was glaring at him with such animosity, he was suddenly confused over just who she was defending.

“And you can’t speak to him either, not until your lawyer is vetted, approved, and hired _by you_ , and only you. We have laws, processes to follow and he can’t just do whatever he wants.”

“We both know that isn’t true, Lieutenant, not in times of war,” Armitage replied, surprising himself at the gentleness of his tone. She looked so upset, he wanted to soothe her, protect her… yet he didn’t know why. “I don’t have any access to a lawyer, and I doubt anyone will want to properly represent me as it is. The least you can do is speak to me as if I exist…” At that moment, as he looked into her wide eyes, the thought of the Arkanisian deer came to him once again. He swallowed hard. “…Since it seems _you_ might actually deem me human enough to concede to that.”

She blinked repeatedly, startled, then her gaze slipped from his to Dameron, who looked like someone had squashed a giant _fliis_ under his nose. His face was growing darker and darker as he glanced between them. If Armitage hadn’t been so focused by his own inner turmoil, he probably would have found it incredibly amusing, but he didn’t. He was bogged down with feelings that he had never thought he’d ever experience.

“Are you suggesting, Kaydel, I am trying to deny him fair representation?” Dameron looked so aghast, Armitage knew he truly didn’t believe himself to be in any wrong. It was a familiar look, for it was one he had often worn himself. He felt supremely uncomfortable at the notion he had anything in common with Poe Dameron. 

“Do you really think so badly of me, Kaydel?” Dameron continued, pain on his face, his voice tinged with disbelief. The people around him, who had been watching their exchange with rapt attention, shifted uncomfortably at his obvious display of emotion, but Dameron either ignored them or didn’t notice.

Kaydel’s expression softened. “I think you are angry, Poe, you and many others; and you want to hurt someone, badly. He just happens to be the easiest and most obvious target.” 

“He _is_ the most obvious target, Kaydel, and the most senior ranking. We need to make an example.”

“Why?” Her voice was quiet. “Why do we need to do that? Are we going to threaten everyone who thinks they can do a better job than us? Isn’t that what we fought for? So people have the freedom to choose who leads them and how? You and I both know the consequences of thinking we know better than anyone else, Poe, and I won’t make that mistake again.”

Dameron’s eyes narrowed. “This time it’s not just you and me."

_Oh,_ Armitage thought suddenly, as he took in the cryptic language and the tense atmosphere. _There’s a personal relationship there, and not just the mutiny._

For some reason he didn’t like that. He didn’t like it at all.

Kaydel shrugged. “Perhaps not, but I know what happens when emotions rule actions and nothing good comes of it.” She paused. “Does Finn know you’re here?”

Dameron hesitated, only briefly, but it was long enough, and he finally lost his temper. “Why are you defending him? Why do you care if a man who has murdered billions, who has been, until recently, your enemy,“ he spat the word, eyes wild, “as you call it…”

“Because that is what separates us from them!” She cried, clumsily launching herself out of bed.

For a moment Armitage was afraid she would fall, but she stood on both feet before them, breasts heaving, cheeks pink with anger.

“If we act without compassion, but with self-justified anger and such arrogance that blinds us to our own faults, then we do nothing more than perpetuate the cycle of hatred. If he is a monster for killing billions, what does that make you?”

The group gasped, but she didn’t seem to hear them and continued. 

“What does that make me? We thought we knew better, and we didn’t listen to those wiser and more experienced than us. Those are the people who are leaders, Poe, not me and not you. You may be a general, but your arrogance will kill us all in the end if you don’t find enough humility to sit down and stop talking as if you know everything!”

The door suddenly burst open and Dr. Neve stormed in, his eyes flashing. “Get out,” he ordered, glaring at the group of people surrounding General Dameron. They looked unsure of what to do.

“I said, get out, all of you!” he shouted, and this time they all complied, scurrying around him. All except for General Dameron and the man called Kane, who stepped back, his hands in front of him in a placating gesture. 

“I’m here for him,” he said, tilting his head at Armitage.

Dameron glared at him, but he just shrugged. Dr. Neve turned to Dameron, anger radiating from his body.

“You deliberately ignored my instructions to wait until the patient is released to question him.” His voice was low with rage. “ _Deliberately_.”

“I don’t need your permission,” Dameron snarled. “You are not a general, and if anything, you are behaving as though you don’t wish to see him punished. Some might even call your actions traitorous, _Doctor._ ”

This last word was hurled with such disdain, everyone gasped.

The doctor’s face twisted into one of sorrowful disgust. “If that’s true, and you have no respect for my opinion as a medical doctor _and_ as a soldier who has been in the field longer than you’ve been alive, then I fear we will fare no better than those we fought to defeat, General.”

And with that, he turned and left, shutting the door behind him. 

A smug pleasure bloomed within Armitage to see Dameron whiten at these parting words. He glanced at Kaydel, but she wasn’t watching. Instead she was looking at the floor. 

Dameron stood silently and then without addressing either of them further, left, his entourage following. Armitage’s appointed lawyer, Reginald Kane, looked back briefly and nodded at Armitage as their eyes met, then shut the door behind him, leaving Armitage alone with Lieutenant Ko Connix.

“Kriffing, hell,” came her muffled voice, and Armitage looked over. She had her face buried in her hands, obviously upset, and the pleasure withered and died. He was left feeling slightly ashamed. 

“What is it between the two of you?” He asked, suddenly annoyed by how her emotions affected him, how the interactions between Dameron and her wrecked havoc on his own emotions. “Every time you meet it’s like a bomb exploding, and I somehow, am caught in the middle.”

“What are you talking about?” She looked up at him, eyes red and puffy.

Armitage scoffed. “You were obviously lovers at some point. And it ended. Badly.”

She flushed and scowled at him. “That—that’s none of your business!”

“No, it’s not,” he retorted. “But it isn’t as though I’ve got anything better to do than sit and speculate about the two people fighting over my legal representation. I feel like a third wheel in a lover’s quarrel.”

She opened her mouth, but then closed it again. Then she began to laugh. Armitage stared at her in shock. It wasn’t a little laughter, it was the kind that came from deep within—or hysterics. Armitage was inclined to believe it was the latter.

“Oh! Oh, that’s funny!” She gasped, tears pooling at the corner of her eyes. “You and Poe! Lovers!”

Armitage balked and felt his face flush, and she laughed even harder. 

“You should see your face! Oh, I wish I could share this with Rose!”

“That’s disgusting.”

She sobered slightly. “What? You and a man or —“

“I meant Dameron! I wouldn’t care if it was —” he cut off, embarrassed. He didn’t want to get into his love life. “This isn’t about me, this is about you, and why you seem so intent on doing the exact opposite of what your commanding officer is telling you to do.”

“He aggravates me,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I can understand that,” he admitted wryly. “He aggravates me as well. Possibly more than he does you.

“I doubt that,” she muttered.

“He doesn’t deliberately mess up your name,” Armitage pointed out.

“Well, you’ve never fallen in love with him and then done stupid things because of it.”

Armitage pulled a face. “I should say not.”

She laughed then and Armitage felt it strike his chest like a lightening bolt, sharp and pointed. His heart raced and he tore his eyes away from her.

_No,_ he thought. _This can’t be happening._

“Do—do you still care for him?” The words were out before he could stop them.

She looked up sharply, the smile slipping away.

“I apologize,” Armitage said gruffly. “That is none of my business. I shouldn’t have—”

“No. I don’t. Not like that.” She was searching his face and he felt a flush creep up his neck. “He was my first relationship, but it’s over. It’s been over for almost a year.”

Armitage cleared his throat. “I see.” 

She made a soft noise of agreement but didn’t say anything more.

The silence was unbearable, but Armitage didn’t know what to say. He had never been good at this kind of talk, and now that he was feeling as though he was treading on dangerous territory, he felt as though anything he could say would push him over.

“I think,” she said slowly, interrupting his wretched thoughts, which filled him with relief, “I have much work to do to keep you from being imprisioned or executed.

His head shot up. “What?” His heart thumped rapidly against his ribs. 

She looked at him, her eyes carefully taking him in. It wasn’t a caressing gaze; there was nothing at all sexual about it, but the intimacy of it made Hux burn. Her eyes were warm and comforting, and he thought, _like a doe—a brown-eyed doe, protecting her fawn_.

He most certainly was not her fawn. In that moment he wanted to be her stag. But he knew he never would be. He would always be the lone male, forced to retreat outside the herd. That was his lot in life. He would do better to accept it now and avoid disappointment.

Of course, if he were dead, disappointment would be a non-issue.

“Why—would you take it upon yourself to help me?” 

She blinked, looking taken aback. “Because I am the only one who knows you.”

Armitage sucked in a breath. I am the only one who knows you. Her words affected him, even though he knew they did not mean to her what they meant to him.

She continued, clarifying: “I am the only one here you had contact with, and for months. I was the one that took your information and passed to leadership. Your information brought the First Order to its knees, and the Resistance needs to recognize that. General Organa is dead and can’t come to your defense. If not me, who else?”

“But—“ He struggled to find the right words, his hands gripping the blankets below him. “No one. I would not expect…I would not expect you or anyone to defend me. I am as Damron says, a criminal; a war criminal. I have single-handedly killed billions—”

“But you have also single-handedly saved billions more,” she interrupted. “Does that count for nothing?”

Armitage couldn’t grasp what she was saying. “No, of course it doesn’t!”

A smile tilted the corner of her lips. Her lovely, lovely, lips _—no, where had that come from?_

“It doesn’t? Are you worth so little?”

“Yes! No!” He couldn’t figure out the right answer. “I am one person.”

An exasperated look crossed over her face. “You thought you were something special not a week ago. What happened to that man?”

He wrenched himself away from her, ignoring how his scars strained and stretch across his chest, sharp and painful. It was nothing compared to the dull pain twisting in his heart.

“He was destroyed by all that he had and was left to die.” He snapped, running his hand over his beard.

But it was more than that. He was a lie and he’d always been a lie; but he could not bring himself to tell her that.

“Why do you suddenly care, Kaydel?” He asked in a low voice, using her name deliberately to invoke a warning at her presumption that she knew him. 

It didn’t have the effect he wanted. Instead, her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, and he felt naked beneath her gaze. He couldn’t breathe under it and he was terrified by what it meant.

She looked away, her gaze lowering. “I don’t know,” she murmured, almost to herself. “But It does.”

She picked up her cane and limped to the door, and then she was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This ship is one that's been on my mind since The Last Jedi. They have no scenes together and have never met, so why, I have no idea. If anyone else has thought about them, let me know what intrigued you. I'd really love to know!


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